


A Kiss to the Forehead

by LaDemonessa



Series: The "Jen is Pissed" Collection [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: #that ending was bullshit, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDemonessa/pseuds/LaDemonessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Consider this my fix-it for the mid-season 'finale' because that was some bullshit!</p>
<p>Oliver kisses Felicity on the forehead then goes off to get himself killed so she takes charge and saves his dumb ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss to the Forehead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenAeron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAeron/gifts).



> Okay, I just had to take an hour out of my next chapter of Still Waters and Quiet Men to write this. And if I offend anyone then, here; have a cookie.
> 
> Oh, and to QueenAeron who wanted something fluffy. Not fluffy but kind of close. Also not smutty, but what do you want from me? You saw that ending? This is as good as it gets, okay?
> 
> Fucking forehead kiss.... That's bullshit! I put up with an entire season of--! You know what, just read the damn thing.

  


A Kiss to the Forehead

By JA Ingram

“This is a duel, Oliver,” she said, her voice intent but with a slight tremble, “With one of the most dangerous men who’s ever walked the Earth.”

Sara had told her about Ra’s once, and only once, and this woman, a woman she admired for her courage and nerves of steel, trembled just like Felicity was trembling now, as she talked about him in whispers like she was a child and he was the monster under the bed.

“Ra’s al Ghul is said to be a thousand years old,” she told her. “He’s so old he doesn’t even remember his own name, and he’s a master of death. If you meet him, you might be tempted to think he’s just a man, but he’s not.” She remembered how Sara’s eyes took on a faraway and haunted look then, “He’s not just the Demon’s Head, he’s the devil himself, and I looked the devil in the eye and handed him my soul.”

At the time she was willing to write that off as too many glasses of the good scotch Oliver had hidden away combined with PTSD, but now she was terrified. He was leaving and he wasn’t telling them where he was going. She also knew he knew her too well to take his phone and, chances are, he wouldn’t be wearing the clothes he wore now so planting a tracker on him wouldn’t work. Even if she could, what was she going to do? Drive the tactical van up a mountain so she could run him over?

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think I could win,” he said with a small smile and a confident manner but that confidence didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He was dying, he was going to die. He knew it, she knew it, and she knew the look on his face. It was a combination of relief and acceptance because now he knew he had nothing left to lose and there was a strange freedom in that. So much so that the tension he always wore around his mouth these days eased, making him look several years younger.

Knowing she couldn’t let him go when he was feeling like that, she said, “And I don’t doubt it. I don’t worry that you can beat him,” she poured every bit of willpower she had in her into saying those words; so much so that, for just a second, she almost believed them herself, “I’m terrified that you won’t kill him.” She watched his eyes widen slightly at those words, Sara’s words, as they left her mouth only, instead of it being *just* Slade, she was talking about someone far more dangerous. “That’s not who you are anymore, Oliver. And I’m afraid Ra’s will use that humanity against you.”

He stepped closer to her, the shock and disappointment he may have initially felt at her words quickly forgiven. Truthfully, that worried her even more because Oliver wasn’t the kind of person to let God and let go; he was more of a, ‘I will burn your whole fucking world down if that’s what it takes’ kind of guy. 

She could deal with Oliver the stubborn ass; this Oliver though? This Oliver scared the crap out of her.

“I honestly don’t know if I’m a killer anymore,” he said almost musingly. “I only know two things, and one is that, whoever I am, I am someone who would do whatever--*whatever*--it takes to save his sister.” He hefted his duffle over his shoulder and stepped forward, his lips resting on her forehead for a lingering moment.

It was a chaste kiss, nothing more provocative than the brush of a father’s lips upon his child’s crown. Then, as he pulled away, that moment of brief tenderness was over. He headed towards the door and she called out to him, “What’s the second thing?”

He turned to her with a small, sad smile, “I love you.”

And then he was gone.

She watched him go, frozen in place, and waited, but he didn’t come back. She thought for sure that as soon as the words left his mouth he’d come back to really kiss her, do something, anything, but he just left.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said at last, the anger boiling up from her stomach and enflaming her entire being.

A kiss to the forehead?

Seriously?

She never thought she’d say it, but that was actually worse than the, ‘Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you’ crap!

“Motherfucker!” She cursed just as Diggle and Roy walked in, their eyes widening as they heard the obscenity leave her lips. She narrowed her eyes at them, “Motherfucker!” She roared.

“Whoa…” Roy said under his breath as he stared at her in shock.

“Felicity? What—what--?” Dig stammered.

“Motherfucker!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Oh man, she’s finally lost it,” Roy muttered. 

“Did Oliver do something? What exactly did he say to you?” Dig asked her in a pained voice as he slowly made his way down the stairs to stand before her.

“What did he say?” She asked with a mirthless chuckle, “What did he say? I’ll tell you what he said, he said, ‘I love you’, then disappeared, but first he kissed me!”

“That’s good right?” Roy offered hopefully.

“On the forehead!” She raged. “He kissed me on the forehead like I was two, walked across the room, told me he loved me, and walked out! He just walked out—to get himself *killed*! Who does that? Who does that and then just leaves? Who does a fucking mic drop on a forehead kiss?! So no, no! No, that’s not good! It’s the furthest *fucking* thing from good that there ever was!”

“Wow, she says ‘fuck’ a lot when she’s pissed,” Roy muttered, turning to Dig. “I mean, I’ve seen her pissed, but this is like a whole new level of pissed.” He cut his eyes towards her as she seethed, “This is ‘fuckin’ pissed.”

“Felicity?” Dig said softly as he approached her.

“No!” She said cutting her hand through the air, “He does not get to fucking get away with that shit! Do you hear me? That’s not fucking fair!”

“I agree,” the older man said carefully.

“It’s not fair!” She repeated.

“You’re absolutely right,” he nodded, taking another step towards her. “Nothing about this is fair.”

“Who says that and just leaves?” She asked plaintively, her eyes filling with tears.

“Oliver,” he offered as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I should have slapped the shit out of him,” she choked as a tear escaped to tumble down her cheek.

Roy shifted uncomfortably, “Well, uh, what did you say?”

“What?” She sniffled, turning to look at him blankly.

“What did you say to him…?” His voice trailed off as the older man pinned him with a hard eye and he swallowed.

Felicity froze and rocked back on her heels, her knees locking. John’s hand tightened on her shoulder as his other hand caught her waist, “Felicity?” She caught the hint of concern in his voice as his eyes swept over her, “Do you need to sit down?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she whispered, her lips going numb. “I didn’t say anything.”

Her knees wobbled and Dig caught her before she went down.

“Hey!” He said, maneuvering her into her chair. “It’s okay, just breathe.” He looked up at Roy, “Go get her a bottle of water.”

“Okay,” the younger man said as he scurried towards the fridge.

She felt the blood drain from her face, “Why didn’t I say anything?” She looked up at him, “Oliver’s going to die and I didn’t say anything.”

She waited. She waited for Dig to assure her that Oliver wasn’t going to die, that there would be time to say the words she wasn’t able to say to him earlier, but he didn’t. Instead he gave her a solemn look, one she recognized instantly as pity.

Pity.

He pitied her.

She was pitiful.

Oliver had made her something to be pitied. He broke up with her before she even got her water much less dinner. He gave her the stupid ‘dangerous vigilante lifestyle’ speech—*again*. She told him to cut the shit and just stop stringing her along and then he fucking kissed her and did that ‘Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you’ horse shit. He spend months treating her like she dumped him then gets all chummy again in Central City, and *then* his stupid, lying, brat of a sister goes and gets him killed, and he does that? He gives her a fucking forehead kiss, drops a bomb, then just leaves?!

And he made John Diggle *pity* her.

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

Oh, now she was really pissed.

“Here’s the water,” Roy said jogging back, the bottle clutched in his hand as he held it out to her but she didn’t take it.

Instead she swung around in her chair facing her workstation and slipped on her headset as she began multiple hacks. First, she got the bead on the GPS on Oliver’s bike and saw he was headed towards the airport. She hacked their database and waited for his credit card to be swiped when he bought his ticket so she’d know where he was going. In the meantime she activated every single fucking tracker she’d ever put on that man, known and unknown to him.

He was good, she’d trained him well. His phone was still in the foundry along with his Arrow gear, his boiled wool peacoat with the tiny tracker in the lapel was at his apartment as was his tux (although, duh, she doubted Ra’s would throw him a formal reception before he skewered him), his regular trainers, his boots—

“Hah! Gotcha!” She crowed as she pinged the hiking boots in his pack. “You’re good, Oliver Queen, but I’m better!”

“What is she doing now?” Roy whispered to Dig.

“I don’t know,” he rumbled, his forehead furrowed in concern. “Uh, Felicity? You know if Oliver doesn’t do this that--?”

She waved him off and dialed Ray.

//Felicity?// 

“I need to borrow a helicopter,” she told him.

//Uh…okay,// he said slowly. //Mind if I ask why?//

“Yes,” she said tightly. “Can I have it or not?”

//Um, sure,// he said in surprise. //I’ll call my pilot and we can--//

“I don’t need a pilot and you can’t come,” she said quickly.

//What’s going on?// He asked in low tones.

“I can’t talk about it.”

//This is about the Arrow, isn’t it?// He asked her. //Because earlier when I was telling you about--?//

“Yeah, yeah!” She said impatiently, “I work for the Arrow and have this whole secret crimefighting nightlife! You’re not the only person in the world to ever put on a costume instead of getting therapy like a normal person! Now can I have the helicopter or not?”

//Only if I get to help,// he said stubbornly.

“You want to help? Fine,” she told him before turning to Roy. “Suit up and go to QC—er, the Palmer building, and get to the executive floor ASAP.”

“Why?” Roy said slowly.

“To start breaking in your new partner while John and I go save the Arrow’s stupid dumb idiotic ass!” She snapped at him. “Now go!”

“Okay,” he said jumping slightly as he hurried to put on his gear.

“Uh, Felicity?” Diggle began but she waved him off again.

//If the Arrow needs back up I can--//

“No,” she told Ray. “No offense, but you’re a rookie even with the wearable tank or whatever the hell that thing is. That said, I need you to suit up and wait for Arsenal to come get you.”

//Arsenal?// 

“The Arrow’s partner,” she told him. “He’s going to collect you and then the two of you are going to meet up with the…” she paused and took a deep breath, “The Canary to come up with a game plan on how to protect the city while we’re gone. There’s a distinct possibility that a group known as the League of Assassins—“

//The League of Assassins? Seriously?// He asked dryly. //Are you messing with me because I showed you my suit? Because, if you are--//

“Goddamn it, Ray; just shut the hell up and listen!” She snapped at him and even Diggle blinked in surprise. “The League is real and they may be planning an attack on the city. I need you to help Arsenal and Canary keep it safe while we’re gone, can you handle that or not?”

//Yeah…// He said hesitantly, //But, um, where are you--?//

“I don’t know yet,” she answered honestly. “Also, I don’t know when I’ll be back so let HR know I’m taking some vacation time.”

//Vacation time?// He said slowly. //I doubt you have any vacation time left and you’ve only worked here a couple of months. You know, seriously, you’re like the worst employee ever.//

“Yeah, well, bad guys don’t make appointments,” she told him. “Fix it or fire me, just suit up!”

//Got it,// he told her. //Are you coming back to pick up my helicopter? It’s on the roof.//

“No, I’m going to Applied Sciences.”

//But the helicopter is---wait,// he said abruptly, //Are you planning on taking one of the new Blackhawks we’ve been developing? Felicity, there is no way--!//

“It’s done, just let them know I’m coming,” she ordered.

//That chopper has advanced weapons tracking, missles--!// He said incredulously, //And since when can you pilot a helicopter?//

“I can’t, but since I have my own ex-Special Forces pilot, I don’t need to.”

//Oh. Oh, uh, well, then I guess you can—Are you *sure* you really need it?// he asked at last.

“Yes.”

//We are breaking so many laws right now…// He muttered and she could hear the rasp of his hand as he rubbed it over his mouth nervously.

“It’s called ‘being a vigilante’, Ray. Either sack up and deal or get the hell out of the way,” she said in a hard, uncompromising tone.

“Whoa,” Roy said wide-eyed as he stepped closer to them. “Okay, now I think Felicity really has lost it.”

She glanced over at where he was standing in his full gear and scowled, “Why are you still here? I told you to go!”

“Uh, yes, ma’am!” He said quickly then flushed. “I mean, Felicity, um, ma’am—just…Felicity—“

“Go!” She shouted at him and he practically ran up the stairs to head out.

//Wow, you are being *really* assertive all of the sudden,// Ray said slowly, //I mean, you were always pretty assertive, but wow; I actually kind of like this whole new take charge/bad girl attitude of yours. It’s kind of…well, sexy. You know, when I told you earlier that I wasn’t in a good place to start thinking about starting a new relationship, I *may* have been a bit hasty because, I have to say--//

“Suit up, Ray; Arsenal is on his way,” she said cutting him off as she saw Oliver check in and go straight to a private plane without buying a ticket. Damn, she thought. Luckily, though, she still had the tracker. She hacked into the CCTV and got the call numbers off the plane then began to hack into its GPS just in case. “I have to go. Make the call to Applied Sciences and we’ll be there in ten minutes.”

//Okay, be carefu--//

She hung up on him and dialed Laurel.

//Felicity?// Laurel sniffled, her voice heavy with tears. //Um, this isn’t a really good time right now. I’m going to have to--//

“I don’t care,” she told her as she continued her simultaneous hacks. “You need to suit up and get to Palmer Industries now.”

//What? Why?// She asked in surprise.

“The League of Assassins was threatening to rain hell on the city because of Sara so Oliver agreed to a trial by combat because we couldn’t find her killer on time,” she lied smoothly.

//What?// She burst out. //What’s going to happen? Is he--?//

“I don’t have time!” She snapped. “I need you to meet Arsenal and Atom at the old QC building to figure out how you’re going to handle protecting the city while Dig and I go after Oliver!”

//Atom?// She said incredulously. //Who the hell is Atom?//

“Your new partner, now gear up and go!”

//But I can’t--// She said, her voice dropping to a low murmur. //My mom is here and--//

“Laurel!” She growled. “We have spent months dealing with you going off half-cocked and whining about wanting to take Sara’s place—“

//What?// She said angrily. //How dare you--!//

“So you can either get it in gear or stop playing at being a vigilante!” She said in her Loud Voice. “Now kiss mommy bye bye, tell her something came up, and move your ass!”

//Fine, I will!// She snapped. //But when this is over I’m going to--//

Felicity hung up on her and grabbed her coat and purse, along with a spare laptop, her tablet, and a phone. “Let’s go!” She turned to John. “Grab your gear and hurry up! We’ll take my Mini in case they need the tactical van and you can call Lyla from the car.”

“Felicity, shouldn’t we…?” He began.

“Move!” She said in a low growl that would do the Arrow proud.

He moved.

┌∩┐(◣_◢)┌∩┐

They approached the mountain just in time to see Ra’s al Ghul pull the blade from Oliver’s chest and kick him off the cliff.

She screamed, the sound almost deafening in the eerily silent stealth chopper. This technology was, to say the least, impressive. In fact, it was the crowning achievement of the Applied Sciences Weapons Division thus far. Besides the state of the art stealth technology and camouflaging capabilities, it was completely green tech. Instead of burning gas or diesel, it was powered by nano-cell technology which eliminated engine noise almost entirely other than the soft whirring noise from the blades as they cut through the air.

However, as she watched Oliver’s body fall lifelessly off the mountain top, weapons tech was the last thing on her mind. 

Diggle’s face hardened as Ra’s casually strutted back into the arms of his sycophants and he used his thumb to flip open the red switch on the dash then green lit the toggle. “Let’s see how that sword does against a heat seeking missile, motherfucker!”

He hit the button.

They watched as Ra’s turned curiously toward the whining sound of the missiles as they headed for him before jumping for cover. His people scattered as they began to rain hell around them and Diggle began firing .50 caliber rounds from the forward guns for good measure.

There was a rumble and a cracking sound as the snow from the mountains surrounding them fell in multiple avalanches but John didn’t stop until every round was spent. They waited as the smoke cleared so they could clearly see the master assassin’s pooled and splattered blood as it turned the snow and slate crimson.

“A fully armed Blackhawk beats a ninja any day of the week and twice on Sunday, asshole,” John spat out, sneering contemptuously at what was left of Ra’s al Ghul.

Felicity was still shaking, her face ghostly pale, “John…” she whimpered.

“Hang on,” he said, turning on the spotlight and setting to the grim task of finding the body of their fallen friend.

They didn’t have to look long. His bleeding and broken body lay seemingly lifeless on the small outcropping near the mouth of a cave less than twenty feet below the plateau from where he fell. He was draped over the rocks like a rag doll and the very sight of him like that made the other man’s stomach churn.

He glanced at Felicity who looked like death itself and took a shuddering breath. “I’ll land the chopper and we can use the winch we brought along with the backboard to bring him up. Can you operate it while I head down the mountain?” She shook silently, her eyes still locked on Oliver. “Felicity!”

“Yes…” she swallowed, closing her eyes and swaying slightly in her seat. “J-just bring him to me.”

He landed the chopper and, after taking a moment to kick the burned out skull of the man who murdered Oliver Queen like a football off the mountainside, he lowered himself down with Felicity at the switch. Before his feet even touched ground though, he was already pulling his weapon as he caught sight of a man in black League of Assassins gear reach for his friend’s body.

“Back up!” He thundered, sighting the guy in his crosshairs instantly.

The Japanese man went into a defensive position then relaxed his stance, “I’m not trying to hurt him, I’m trying to save his life.”

He took a step forward and Diggle fired, forcing the other man to fall back as he clapped his hand over the graze from the bullet that hit his arm, “I will put a cap in your League of Assassins ass if you don’t back the fuck up!”

“He’s still alive, but just barely!” The other man growled. “I’m trying to save him!”

“Worry about yourself, asshole!” He told him as he jumped down and held his gun out steadily. “Now drop on your belly!”

The man obeyed. He went down on his stomach, his arms still held at his side. “You’re wasting time!

“The only one wasting my time is you,” he told him as he reached down to feel for a pulse.

It was there; thready and weak, but there.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The man’s got more lives than a goddamn cat.” He reached to his belt and pulled out some cuffs. “Put those on!” He ordered the man on the ground, never taking his finger off the trigger. “Behind your back!”

“He’s going to bleed out because you’re too busy messing with me!” The other man scowled, but complied anyway.

“If you really want to save him then put on the goddamn cuffs so I can get him taken care of,” Diggle shot back.

The other man shot him a filthy look but complied. As soon as the cuffs were on him, Diggle slipped off his pack and pulled out a wad of pressure bandages, one hand still on the gun, and slapped them over the wound on the front of him. He was bleeding from both sides though so he had to hurry. “Felicity!” He said over his ear piece. “I need you down here now! Oliver’s alive but I can’t do this by myself!”

He expected her to hesitate, to stammer about her fear of heights, but to his surprise she dropped down a few seconds later with a harness around her hips and made a beeline straight for Oliver. As soon as she got to him, she threw down her own pack and began pulling out bandages to staunch the blood flow.

“Stand up!” Diggle ordered the man on the ground. “Stand up!” He shouted when he wasn’t moving fast enough for his tastes. “Turn around!”

The man turned and Dig reached for the second weapon in his holster. “You’re wasting--!” The man swung around suddenly, his leg coming up in a roundhouse, but it was too late.

Before his leg could come around, John fired the Taser into his throat, bypassing his body armor, causing his body to jerk and spasm uncontrollably. He kept his hand on the trigger until the man’s eyes rolled back in his skull and the smell of urine hit his nostrils.

As soon as he was good and out, he holstered his weapon and flipped him, tossing away the man’s weapons as he patted him down. He took out some heavy duty zip tie cuffs and, with speed born from experience, hogtied him by first double cuffing his wrists and thumbs into a painful and awkward position, then his ankles, and finished the job by tying his hands and feet together until he looked like a trussed up Christmas turkey.

He wasn’t taking any chances with this son of a bitch even with the time crunch, not if he was going to give all of them a fighting chance to get home in one piece so he could get Oliver to the hospital and see his own daughter again. 

“John, I need help!” Felicity called out in a panic and he hurried over to her. Working quickly they packed the wounds and he inserted a chest tube for his collapsed lung before putting him in a cervical collar and slipping the backboard between him and the rocks as best they could before strapping him in.

“The cold’s actually working in our favor right now,” Diggle said breathlessly as they removed him from the rocks and lowered him onto the ground to attach him to the harness. “It’s slowing the bleeding but we need to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible if we want to save him,” he told her. 

“Is he going to die?” She asked shakily.

“Maybe,” he said truthfully. “I’ll be straight with you; it’s bad. He got him in the lung but at least he stabbed him on the right side and not the left where the heart and stomach are and he didn’t get him in the liver so that’s good, but he’s not going to be bouncing back anytime soon and his back could be broken from the fall,” he told her, not pulling punches. “Even if he makes it, he might not ever be able to put the hood back on.”

“I don’t care,” she said sniffling as she ran a shaky hand over the unconscious man’s cheek. “I just want him alive; I don’t care about the rest of it.”

“He meant for him to die slowly,” the man on the ground slurred as he came to. “Ra’s knows this mountain like the back of his hand, just like he knows every way there is to kill a man. He didn’t want to kill him quick, he wanted him to suffer. I tried to tell Oliver that he could never win this fight; no one could.” He lifted his head to look at them, “By the time he climbed the mountain, his muscles were like jelly and he was light-headed from lack of oxygen while Ra’s was already there waiting for him. He never stood a chance.”

“Yeah, well, Ra’s is in hell getting butt-fucked by the real Demon’s Head so now he can find out what it feels like to get screwed over first hand,” Diggle said harshly. “Felicity, get up the mountain with Oliver while I take care of our friend here.”

“Are you going to kill him?” She asked, already making sure the harnesses were good and tight around them both.

“Thinking about it,” he said, looking at the hogtied man with blood in his eye.

She didn’t even spare the assassin a look, her attention completely fixed on Oliver’s prone form. “Fine by me, just do it quick so we can get out of here.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt Oliver!” The man insisted. “I’m his friend; we worked together in Hong Kong!”

“Bullshit!” He spat.

“It’s true!” He insisted as Felicity used the remote to bring her and Oliver to the top of the mountain. “Even if you don’t believe me, at least keep me alive long enough to direct you to the nearest hospital!”

“It’s called GPS, motherfucker,” John told him as he unholstered his sidearm. “Get your dumb ninja ass into the 21st century already.”

“Look, if I’m lying then you can kill me later!”

He took a half a second to think about it. “Fine,” he told him, not bothering to untie him but instead grabbing the second line and clipping it to his cuffs. “But if you try anything we’re gonna find out if Assassins can fly. Oh, and by the way, this is going to hurt.”

He hit his remote and the man cried out in pain as he was pulled across the rough ground on his belly then hoisted into the air, bouncing off the cliff face with his spine bent back into a U.

“Hope the League offers medical because it looks like somebody’s going to need a chiropractor,” John said grimly as he hit his own button and ascended the rock face. 

凸 (⊙_◎)

Oliver slowly came to, his mouth dry and tasting like a sewer.

“Well,” he rasped, his voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard, “not dead. Cool.”

“Nope, not dead. Cool,” Felicity agreed absently.

He turned to look at her blearily. 

The first thought that popped into his head was that she looked like hell. 

Her hair was pulled into a messy and tangled bun, she wasn’t wearing makeup and there were dark smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep, plus she was wearing a plain grey sweatshirt that washed out her complexion making her appear pale and wan.

And she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Where are we?” He muttered and twitched his fingers towards the water on the nightstand.

She poured him a little in a pink plastic cup, added a bendy straw, and brought it to his lips. She waited until he finished drinking it before speaking. “Vancouver,” she told him. “After your little adventure in the Canadian Rockies, we got you to the closest trauma center but, once you were stabilized, they moved you here.”

“How long?” He asked, clearing his throat and indicating he wanted more water.

“A month,” she told him as she held the straw to his lips once more. 

He frowned, “I’ve been out for a month?”

“Actually, you were in an induced coma for the first ten days while we waited for the swelling to go down in your brain, the rest of the time you’ve just been in and out between surgeries but you just started to make sense a couple of days ago.”

“I don’t remember,” he said, his eyes shutting in confusion.

“You’ve been hopped up on the good stuff so that doesn’t surprise me,” she told him. “After sleeping in that pink plastic covered nightmare they call a couch I was tempted to unhook your IV and take a couple of hits off it myself.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” He asked turning to her, his eyes focusing on her again.

“Yep,” she said popping the ‘p’ in emphasis.

“Are the others here?” He asked, lifting his head slightly then dropping it back on the pillow when he realized just how futile that was.

“No, they’re back home watching the kids for us.”

“Kids?” He said in surprise. “What kids? The only kid any of us have is Sara.”

“Our kids, Oliver,” she told him carefully.

“What?” He said blankly.

She winced, “Okay, the doctor said there could be some memory loss. How much do you remember? You do remember our wedding at least, right?”

“We’re married?” He blinked.

“Of course we are!” She frowned. “It’s bad enough you don’t remember that we have six kids together but—“

“Six?” He squeaked as he tried to sit up again but failed miserably.

“Well, soon to be seven,” she sighed patting her stomach. 

“We have seven kids,” he repeated faintly. “I have seven kids.”

“Yup,” she said happily, “Doc, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, Sneezy, and soon to be born little Dopey,” she said patting her stomach again.

“Huh?” He said dumbly.

“Don’t blame me,” she told him. “I wanted to go the Sydney White route with Terrence, Gurkin, Spanky, Embele, Jeremy, Lenny, and George, but you’re the one who insisted on being traditional.” She sighed, “You know, the really miraculous part of having so many kids is that we’ve never even had sex.” She said wide-eyed, “In fact, other than that one closed mouth kiss and a peck on the forehead I haven’t gotten any action at all.”

“What?” He hissed.

“Yeah,” she said roundly. “Talk about the salmon swimming upstream. Boy howdy.”

“You’re messing with me?” He asked in disbelief. “I get stabbed, tossed off a mountain, and come out of a coma, and you’re messing with me?”

“You,” she said with emphasis, “have put me through hell for the last four months and nine days so excuse me for getting a little payback, mister.”

“What did I do?” He asked muzzily.

“What did you do?” She asked him incredulously, “Well, besides the whole being a jack ass since our, quote, ‘date’,” she said gesturing with her fingers, Oliver’s eyes noting the chipped and ragged nails that had been bitten down to the quick, “you kiss me—on the forehead—walk away, then tell me you love me before even giving me a chance to catch my breath!”

“Sorry,” he said softly.

“And who the hell goes off to die after kissing someone on the forehead then just walks off like that?” She raged. “That’s bullshit!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he told her again, his chest warming as he watched her cheeks redden with anger.

“I am *so* angry at you!” She scowled. “If you had died on me I would have killed you!”

His lips twitched upwards at their own volition.

“Don’t smile at me,” she warned him. “I really hate you right now.”

“No, you don’t,” he said sleepily.

“God, you’re an ass,” she said just before he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

He had faint memories of voices in the background, of someone checking his vitals occasionally, but when he finally opened his eyes again the room was dark and empty, “Felicity?” He called out weakly.

The door to the bathroom opened and she stepped out wrapped in a very small towel, another one in her hands as she scrubbed it through her hair, “Are you thirsty?” She asked, walking over to his bedside.

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes bugged out of his head as he watched her sit in the chair beside him, the towel riding up her thighs as she bent forward to pour some water in the cup and bring it towards him.

He took a drink, his eyes still fixed unblinkingly on her, “You’re naked,” he gasped out as soon as he finished drinking his fill.

“No, I’m not,” she said, glancing down at her towel. “Are you done drinking?” 

He nodded dumbly. She set the cup aside before getting up to walk over to another chair near the short pink plastic covered couch where her suitcase was lying open and pulled out a nightgown. She put down the towel she was using to dry her hair then loosened the towel around her so it fell to the floor.

“You’re naked!” He yelped.

“Well, yeah,” she said glancing down at her body, “Now I am.”

“B-but you can’t be naked!” He stammered weakly.

“Why not?” She asked, tilting her head, arms akimbo as she lifted an inquiring eyebrow. “It’s just a body, Oliver. God knows you’ve seen plenty of naked women before so what’s the big deal?”

She shook her head at him before slipping the soft cotton nightgown over her head then put on a thick robe as well before picking up her fallen towel and tossing it on a nearby chair. She then moved her suitcase onto the floor and began unfolding the bundle of hospital sheets so she could make up her bed for the night, all the while acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He watched her in open-mouthed shock, minutes passing before he could speak again, “You—you—you—you were naked! I saw you naked.”

“Uh huh,” she said absently as she dropped a pillow on the neatly made pallet then crossed the room to retake her usual place on the chair beside him. “I’ve been in this room for a while, been naked in front of you lots of times, too; you just don’t remember because you were too busy being looped out on pain meds and calling me ‘Raisa’ while asking if you could stay home from school because you felt ‘oogy’.” She slipped on her glasses then picked up the tablet that was sitting on his nightstand and began to scroll through it absently.

“But…but you can’t…I mean…”

She sighed and looked up at him, “Seriously Oliver, we’re eventually having sex anyway so what difference does it make if you saw me naked or not?”

He really had no answer to that.

“I mean, you do know we’re having sex, right?” She asked him pointedly. “That’s a definite thing that’s going to be happening.”

He looked down at himself and frowned, shifting his legs slightly under the covers, “I mean, we could give it a--”

“Not now,” she said in exasperation. 

“Oh. Okay, good,” he said flushing. “I mean, not good! Just that we might actually…you know, someday maybe, uh…”

“Not maybe,” she bit out sternly. “Not might. We are having sex,” she emphasized. “Sex. As in; Fuck. Ing.”

“Felicity!” He exclaimed with a scowl.

“No!” She said, putting aside her tablet and glaring at him, “No more kisses on the forehead, no more acting like I’m some Vestal Virgin! I’m not a virgin, Oliver; you do know that right?” She asked him. “Admittedly, I haven’t had sex since college and only with one guy who, in addition to being a selfish lover who thought oral was unhygienic when it was his turn at bat, later turned into a psycho; but!” She held up one finger, “I have a pretty great imagination, I do read, and I’ve been sitting under that damn salmon ladder for a while now, so there will be sex. A *lot* of sex,” she told him. “We’re talking hours and hours of it. Tender sex, nasty sex, rough sex, tantric sex, up against the wall sex, public sex, I want foreplay, I want different positions, I might even bring in accessories when I feel really adventurous, but there will be sex!” She told him. “I even got a depo shot here at the hospital while you were in surgery and made sure we were both clean just in case I can’t get to the store for condoms and, when I do buy condoms, they’re going to be the really expensive ones in the gold wrapper because, yeah, ribbed for her pleasure is what I fucking deserve after putting up with this crap for what feels like forever so I don’t care if we have to put a splint on it first, we’re having sex!” She took a deep breath, “That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” he said gobsmacked.

“Good, I’m happy we’re on the same page then.” She picked up her tablet again and huffed, “Now, where was I? Seventeen across: Twelve letter word for collapsed lung? Pneumothorax, duh.”

“Uh, speaking of which,” he frowned slightly, “how bad is it? My injuries?”

She looked at him through a fall of dark lashes, “Not as bad as it could have been,” she told him. “Collapsed lung, internal bleeding, cracked skull, but luckily you were already limp when you fell so you didn’t actually break your back,” she told him. “You have whiplash though and a few hairline fractures, some possible slipped discs but we’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down to see if they’ll heal on their own, extensive bruising, and several new scars, but you’ll live.” 

“So nothing permanent then?”

“For a normal person, maybe; for you, no,” she said dryly. 

“What about Ra’s and the League?” He asked her.

She sighed and placed the tablet on the bed again, “Dig got him with a missile—“

“A missile?” Oliver said incredulously.

“I borrowed a prototype military chopper from our weapons division and he lit him up like it was the Fourth of July,” she told him then pinned him with her stare, “See what happens when you don’t run off half-cocked and just give me a few seconds to think?”

He grimaced, “What about Nyssa?” He asked, ignoring her.

“She made it out, don’t ask me how,” she said wryly, looking down at the tablet again. “She tried to declare a jihad on Starling but the team brought her down along with Merlyn.”

“The team?” He repeated, his mind reeling.

“Dig, Roy, Laurel, Wildcat, Ray, and Thea,” she said. “Oh, and some guy named Maseo after we figured out he was telling the truth about who he was but not before Diggle nearly broke him in half just for the hell of it.” 

“What?” He thundered, “Since when are Ray and Thea--?!”

“Relax,” she chastised him. “You’ll bring in the nurses!” She waited until he calmed down to speak, “Ray developed some weapons tech, specifically a wearable tank—you’ll see it later—to help when the League descended on Starling and Thea started fighting on the wrong side but switched teams when Roy and Laurel took off their masks. Also,” she took a deep breath, “you should know Malcolm showed her the video.”

He flinched; dread curling at the bottom of his stomach, “How is she?” He asked faintly.

“Not great,” she admitted. “Dig and Roy are keeping a close eye on her but they think she’ll be okay now that Merlyn’s dead.”

“Who killed Merlyn?” He asked.

“Laurel almost did,” she told him and, as his face clouded over guiltily, she reached out to squeeze his hand. “She stopped though; she didn’t do it. However, Nyssa finished the job before going after her but Thea jumped into the fray and, between the two of them, they managed to take her down.”

He nodded solemnly, “So is she dead, too now?” 

“We don’t think so,” she said, inhaling deeply before getting back to her tablet. “Some of her guys came and got her then beat a hasty retreat. That was a little over a week ago but, according to the guys, things have been pretty quiet so hopefully it’s over now. According to Maseo, once they defeated her in battle the blood debt was settled according to League law, so…”

“Yeah, well, let’s not count any chickens before they’re hatched,” he said grimly. He looked at her uncertainly, “And Thea is really okay?”

“A lot of guilt,” she admitted, “She takes after you in that regard and Laurel is still a bit standoffish around her despite telling her she doesn’t blame her, but they’re getting it together. I told her she could visit you but I think she’s too embarrassed to come up here yet. However, Roy told me that she already hired a nurse for when you come home so that’s a good sign.”

He nodded, “How’d they manage without you there?” He asked, forcing himself to put thoughts of his sister aside for now.

“Pretty good; Lyla brought in the Suicide Squad and ran coms,” she told him. “ARGUS is still maintaining a presence there just in case they try anything else but, according to Dig, they should be pulling out soon.”

He nodded again even though he hated the thought of relying on ARGUS to protect his city, “So how long do the doctor’s say it’ll be before I can get out of this bed?”

“They said, if everything looks good, we can head home by the weekend since Thea is getting you a home health care worker, so Ray is sending us his jet. However, you *will* have to take it easy for at least a few more weeks while you build your strength back up,” she told him, then paused, “Oh, and I had them go ahead and do the knee replacement surgery since you’re going to be out of commission anyway.”

“*You* had them do the surgery?” He said in surprise.

“Yeah, I’m your medical proxy,” she told him.

His eyebrows drew together at that, “Since when?”

“Since I made myself your medical proxy,” she said simply before looking down at her tablet again, “Oh, and, just in case anyone asks, we’re also married.”

“What?” He hissed then drew back slightly and eyed her suspiciously, “Wait, are you messing with me again?”

“Nope,” she told him. “I needed to stay with you and they would only let family into the room, so I married us.” She looked up at him, “Oh, and you owe me a ring. A bit fat diamond ring, and there better be so many carats in there that even Bugs Bunny will want to sit up and say, ‘What’s up Doc?’” 

“How did you…?” She held up her tablet and he sagged back against his pillow in relief, “Oh. So it’s not real?”

“Relax, Oliver,” she smirked. “Your bachelor status is still safe and sound as far as the real world is concerned. I still want diamonds though.” She blinked slowly, “A lot of diamonds so I seriously hope you saved a couple back from when you were a billionaire because, while I don’t actually expect a ring, a tiara might be nice.”

“Good,” he nodded, “We’ll do that first then because when we do get married I want to actually be conscious for it and I’d rather not spend our honeymoon laid up in the hospital.”

“What?” She said, the tablet nearly slipping out of her hands in shock.

He nodded somberly, “That’s right,” he told her. “I mean, despite my reputation, I don’t just put out for anyone. If you want to break off a piece of this then you’re going to have to put a ring on it first.”

“You’re messing with me,” she stated flatly.

His lips twitched upwards in a slow grin, “For now anyway.” He chuckled as her jaw dropped slightly, “Now are you going to sit there catching flies or are you going to kiss me already?”

“Kiss you?” She squeaked.

“Well, yeah,” he frowned, “I mean, I did already see you naked and, technically, we are married…at least in the hospital, so the least I should get out of it is a kiss, don’t you think?”

She smiled then and got to her feet, leaning over him before gently brushing her lips over his forehead.

“Felicity…” he growled in frustration making her chuckle.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” She asked mischievously before placing her lips on his and kissing him.

When they broke apart, their lips barely a hairsbreadth apart, he whispered, “I love you.”

She kissed him again, “I know.”

“‘I know’?” He pulled away and gave her a dirty look, his hands coming up to clasp her arms gently, “That’s crap! I’ve said ‘I love you’ four times now--!”

“Twice,” she corrected.

“Four times,” he said angrily. “Once at the mansion, once in the hospital back in Starling, once in the foundry, and—“

“The first two don’t count,” she told him.

“Bullshit!”

“No,” she said firmly. “The first time was for Slade—“

“No it wasn’t,” he said taking umbrage. “I told you that because I really was in love with you!”

“Still doesn’t count,” she told him. “Then the second time wasn’t a real ‘I love you’ either because—“

“How do you figure?” He challenged.

“‘Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you’ isn’t the same as just ‘I love you’,” she pointed out.

“It’s implied,” he scoffed. “Besides, even if that were true I still said—“

“I love you,” she said quietly stopping him mid-rant. She cupped his cheek which now sported a full-on beard from weeks of not shaving, “I love you more than anything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said tenderly, rising up just enough to brush his lips against hers despite the discomfort it caused.

“I love you,” she told him again with a mischievous grin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her slightly, “Are you trying to beat my high score for saying ‘I love you’ or something? You are, aren’t you?” He said as her smile broadened and laughed.

“What can I say? I’m highly competitive,” she quipped. “Oh, and I love you. Again,” she said with a smirk. “That makes it eight to three. Oops, I love you; nine.”

“Highly competitive, huh?” He said, his eyes dropping to the front of her nightgown which was gaping open, exposing her cleavage to his gaze. “I love you, I love you, I love your tits. I’d really love it if you got naked again…”

“Uh huh,” she said huskily. “Those last ones don’t count either so it’s still my game.”

“Well,” he said, slowly running his fingers down her arm, “just you wait until we get home, young lady, because you haven’t seen me when I get really competitive.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said her lips brushing his again.

“Oh, it will be,” he murmured, “I promise.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry but that finale was bullshit. If you got a problem with it then check out the page breaks because that’s how much I give a shit.
> 
> For the rest of you, hope you had fun. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> \---Jen


End file.
